D Is For Dates
by KeiranEmrys
Summary: ...and why Sylar doesn't do them. Being a serial killer can put quite a damper on your love life. Petlar.


**Title:** D Is For Dates... And Why Sylar Doesn't Do Them

**Summary:** Being a serial killer really puts a damper on your love life.

**Pairings:** Sylar/Peter, slight Sylar/OC

**Warnings:** Language. Malexmale kissing. Awkward silences abound. Alternate universe where Sylar and Peter are (somehow) best friends.

**Word Count:** ~1000

* * *

Awkward. Silences. Suck.

Sylar shifted in his seat for about the hundredth time and glanced at his equally uncomfortable "date". It was then that he decided that there could be nothing more uncomfortable than a silent date. The two exchanged nervous smiles as they both picked at the food. The woman across from Sylar opened her mouth as if to say something. Sylar paused expectantly. Were they finally going to have a conversation?

"Erm, could you pass the salt?"

Inwardly sighing, Sylar passed her the salt. She mumbled a nervous "Thanks" and they were back to square one. Ten aching minutes later Sylar was almost ready to blurt out the first thing that came to mind (not advisable considering it most likely would have something to do with brains), then she finally (read: FINALLY!) spoke.

"So, Sylar... what do you do?" At his hesitation she clarified, "Do you have and hobbies? Work?"

For a moment Sylar contemplated telling her he was a serial killer who ripped open peoples heads and ate their brains in order to get supernatural powers like telekinesis and shape-shifting. No, he decided. He didn't really want another run-in with the police and that would surely happen if he told her the truth. Besides, weren't most good relationships built on lies anyway?

"I collect... things. And I'm really interested in brains and investment banking." Okay, so he couldn't resist mentioning the brain thing. It was, after all, his favorite organ... well second favorite at least.

"So you're a neurosurgeon?"

"Something like that."

"Oh, that's nice. My brother's a neurosurgeon."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Cool."

"..."

"..."

And the awkward silence continued. It lasted through the rest of the night. Sylar was almost relieved when he finally walked her to her apartment. At the door, it was possibly more awkward than dinner had been. Sylar wasn't quite sure what to say or do (really, he hadn't been on a "date" since high school), so he settled with the old stand-by.

"Well, it was nice meeting you." A few more moments as he shuffled his feet. "Good night."

She gave him a small smile in reply and went inside. Even as Sylar walked into his own apartment he still couldn't quite shake the awkward feeling that was left over from the date. Seriously, he hadn't felt that uncomfortable since his very first date in seventh grade with chatty little Martha Johnson. He slumped on his couch and groaned to himself. Worst. Date. Ever.

The sudden arrival of one Peter Petrelli didn't even move him from his spot from the couch. In fact he didn't even jump half a foot in the air as he usually did when the empath teleported in unannounced. This non-movement from him caused Peter to quirk his head to the side and look at Sylar questioningly.

"Rough night?"

Sylar glanced up at Peter, who was standing behind the couch, and gave a half-hearted glare. "You have no fucking idea."

Peter laughed at Sylar's plight and hopped over the back of the couch to sit next to his friend. And since Peter had knew nothing of the concept of personal space, he was practically on Sylar's lap as he stared excitedly at the other man.

"Are you gonna tell me about it? Or am I gonna have to read your mind again?"

One look at Peter's determined face and Sylar gave up glaring. Peter could always get anything out of him. In a pathetic move that even surprised Peter, Sylar suddenly dove into cuddle Peter's chest. Peter's arms automatically came up around the other man, but that didn't stop the surprised expression on his face.

"Shit, Peter, it was awful!" Sylar bemoaned his night into Peter's collarbone and gripped the younger man's shirt in his fists. He was practically curled on Peter's lap at this point. "She didn't even talk! I don't think I've had worse dates than that. It was truly awful. Why do I have such bad luck Peter? Why am I so awful when it comes to dating?!"

Sylar didn't cry--he wouldn't. This was nothing to cry over, but nevertheless Peter rubbed his hands over Sylar's back in a soothing manner.

"Oh stop it. I'm sure you're a wonderful date. It's not your fault she was a mouse. You've got to put more faith in yourself Sy. You're an amazing person and you're special, and anyone who isn't willing to see that is either blind or stupid or both."

Sylar lifted his head to look Peter in the eye. "You mean that Pete?"

Peter smiled, a bright smile that he saved only for Sylar. "Of course I do. When have I ever lied to you?"

Sylar was silent, still staring at Peter, but his gaze had drifted from the brunette's eyes down to his lips. Sylar licked his own lips and smirked.

"I'm amazing, huh?"

Peter blushed, which is odd because he never blushes. "Well yeah. I mean of course you are, you're the most amazing person I've ever met. And it doesn't have anything to do with your powers. I mean they're awesome too and all but you're amazing without them you know? Not to say you don't need them or anything, just--"

Peter was rambling, so Sylar put a stop to it. It was just a peck, two sets of lips meeting softly and effectively putting a stop to Peter's words. At first. Sylar drew back almost as soon as he'd touched his lips to Peter's, but Peter leaned forward bringing them together again. He brought a hand up to hold the back of Sylar's head as the kiss grew in intensity. The force with which he brought them together was almost bruising, but to Sylar it was exquisite.

Eventually they pulled apart, though they were still so close that they could feel the other's breath on their lips. Sylar licked his lips, tasting Peter on them and looked up into the other man's eyes again. They smiled at each other.

"I guess my problem with her was that she wasn't you."

Peter didn't say anything, just smiled and proceeded to snog the daylights out of the serial killer.


End file.
